


Gestures

by junichiblue



Category: Bleach
Genre: Blood, Confusion, Demolition, Drabbles, Fighting, Fighting because you don't know what else to say, Headbutting, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junichiblue/pseuds/junichiblue
Summary: Because when a boy likes you, sometimes he picks fights. And maybe you both get carried away and knock a city down. And drabbly things ensue. No biggy.





	Gestures

I don't know what this is. I think I woke up with a few random lines in my head a few weeks ago. Now it's just some words on a page. It is meaningless. A fight. A drabble.

 

**Gestures**

  
  
“I'm not fighting you, Grimmjow.”

Ichigo's heavy sword drops until it scratches irresponsibly at the concrete.

He doesn't care, really. Damage is part of the price the world has to pay for what he does. It's the least of his worries. And most of the time he doesn't give it a second thought. Most of the time.

Grimmjow gives him a cold look, the wrinkle in his lip slight but telling. He doesn't move yet.

“Then clearly, you're not a man of your word.”

Ichigo, being the kind of person that he is, one who just attracts this kind of attention, actually laughs at his opponent. Snorts even. Because he has those kinds of balls. And those kinds of brains.

“At least I know what honour is.” His dark eyes just project right back all the derision he has in him. It's not hard to do against this opponent. “I'm not fighting you,” he says harshly, “because you'll lose... badly. And I know just what a sore loser you ar-.”

He dodges only because he was ready.

The roar itself was cut off before it could be completed, the former Espada snapping out of existence one second, and punching right up against the flat of Ichigo's sword the next. Hard enough that Ichigo has to throw his feet back and his weight forward just to brace against him.

“Hah! If I can't beat you,” the mania in those wide ice blue eyes just revs at Ichigo's nerves. “I'll give you my sword!”

Ichigo grinds the back of his jaw into bone dust and grunts at the audacity.

Ichigo has been too long without a real fight since the war, small hollows hardly worth getting out of bed for. And Grimmjow is striking some pretty deep rooted nerves today

"Your sword?!” He loses ground against a burst of reatsu and has to dig his feet into earth and broken asphalt. His question is answered with a mean smile that stretches into a grinding voice.

“I don't deserve to carry it if I can't even lay a good hit on you... “ Blue eyes flash with dark promise. “Or beat you dead.”

The wide angry grin that snaps across Ichigo's face holds its own mania. He could never turn down this particular challenge.

“Fine. Same.”  
  
Grimmjow shoves him back, like it's just so easy.

“Pfft. Like I'd want that hunk of crap.”

He's too angry at this point to care about another insult. He leaps back, catching air, and his opponent does the same, swords unsheathed and fingers drawing out a swell of power while raking across skin.

“Don't worry. You won't be getting it any time soon!”

 **X X X**  


It's not like Grimmjow to retreat, not when he's winning, and not when his prey is falling to its knees in the earth at his feet.

But the calvary is coming.

He's pissed, but he expects that much.

He can't find the energy to hold a grudge right now, though. Not when Ichigo gave him such a glorious fight. His prey's blood is splattered across his face and chest, mixing with his own. He can hardly catch his own breath, a piece of Ichigo's snapped-off sword wedged between two ribs.

He'll take that with him for next time, use it to carve his name into Ichigo's skin.

Make sure everyone knows who did it.

But for now, he sneers as his knees grind against the rubble, Pantera taking his weight in one hand while the other opens an escape.

And for a moment, they're eye to eye, and inches apart. Surrounded by the wreckage of the city they razed.

And Grimmjow can see plain as day what's flicking across Ichigo's weak mind.

He wants to know his intentions.

Grimmjow bubbles out a laugh that catches on the dark blood in his throat. And he uses his free hand to snag Ichigo's hair. One sharp yank is all it takes to topple Ichigo and crack their heads together.

Ichigo curses him out in surprised anger. Grimmjow just bites him right back for it. Right on his nose.

He pulls back to save himself a return blow, if Ichigo can even muster it.

But Ichigo can't muster it. All he sees through watering eyes is a blur of blue and white and red. His muscles scream and his cuts sting and his god damn nose is throbbing.

And then Grimmjow cuffs him one right in the side of the head one last time before he forces himself up onto his own legs and steps onto the ledge and slides behind a veil of empty blue sky.

Ichigo falls onto his side and wheezes to himself for awhile.

He wonders about it all, replaying each moment of their fight while he waits in the dust of the crater they made.

Recognition comes slowly. And he wonders if some of Grimmjow's insults about his intelligence might not be so far off the mark.

None of Grimmjow's shots were meant to kill. Hurt like hell, yes. But he'd dragged their fight out. Just kept chipping away at Ichigo without real focus, until Ichigo's body, like his resolve, finally crumbled. He hates that he lost, but he knows he didn't deserve to win. Grimmjow's moves were too good, and Ichigo's defence was too weak.

This time.

Next time, he'll be better.

He can't put his finger on it, why he's already jumping at the bit to next time. Why the pounding of excitement in his guts is so bright and so real. Why it exists at all.

Ichigo's world has always been a sideways one.

And so it has nothing to do with Ichigo being so beaten that he's numb. But that smack in the head hadn't hurt. Because Grimmjow hardly gave that hit any real effort.

Like a gesture of approval.

The sealing of a contract.

A vow.  
  
And that says everything he needs to know.  


 


End file.
